


At Death's Door

by haunted_ella (Leviarty)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:04:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/haunted_ella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has a request. Takes place during Death's Door, but this title has a slightly more literal meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Death's Door

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Where the Hell was Crowley III](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6889) by BlackBirdRose. 



When the King of Hell learned that Bobby Singer was on his death bed, he snuck into the hospital while the Winchesters were preoccupied by some insurance guy, or whatever, with every intention of saving the old man in whatever way he could. He figured if he didn't take the chance, he wasn't gonna get another one. The brothers would throw a fit if they saw him sneaking into the hospital.

But the Winchester's weren't the only ones standing in his way, and Bobby's room is far from empty.

"Get out!" the reaper exclaimed the moment he saw the demon enter the room. Even Crowley wasn't stupid to mess with a reaper, and so he obeyed immediately, but not before snatching the blue cap off the table. The boys would maybe notice its disappearance, but not immediately. They would hopefully be too preoccupied with Bobby to notice.

"What are you doing here, Crowley," Tessa asked, looking down at the list in her hands when Crowley arrived. "You don't have an appointment."

"I need to speak with him," Crowley said harshly, pushing past her.

"You can't do that," Tessa replied, trying to stop him. "You aren't allowed in without an appointment!"

"Rules were made to be broken," he shot back, shoving open Death's door. The room, Death's office, for lack of a better word, reminded Crowley vaguely of a Dali painting, what with the clocks  _everywhere_.

"I'm sorry, sir," Tessa said hurriedly. "I couldn't stop him."

"It's alright, Tessa," Death replied. "Let him in. Let's see what the King of Hell wants this time."

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Death notices the cap in his hand.

"Ah, I know why you're here," he said. "Tessa, fetch my list, won't you?"

Tessa bowed out of the room, and returned a moment later. She showed him the list.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do," Death said, turning his attention back to the demon.

"There must be something," he replied, practically begging.

"There is not. You ask too much this time. I'm sorry. There is nothing we can do for Mr. Singer. His time has come."

Crowley bowed his head. This was not going as well as he would have liked. He only had one alternative.

"If you won't give me the hunter, then give me the leviathan who shot him."

Death pondered the request for a long while. Crowley and Tessa watched him expectantly. Finally he nodded.

"Very well."


End file.
